Raison D'Être
by Skyward Wings
Summary: What does one do after conquering the world? Mini-oneshot.


**DYSTOPIA is a matter of OPINION**  
**RAISON D'ÊTRE**

**By Obsidian Fireheart  
**

* * *

When Station Square fell, there was nothing. It was the last to be conquered by Robotnik's regime. Central had already been destroyed and rebuilt upon by the mad doctor, Westopolis was long gone, and any evidence of Mobius' original metropolitan lifestyle was vanquished. Sure, the buildings were there, but living in them was impossible. Staying any longer than an hour above ground level was dangerous, unless it was a robot who was going up, due to the amount of harmful content in the air up there. Many of the Mobians had thought that it was unbelievable, that one person would be able to do so much damage to the world.

No matter the IQ, nothing should be able to match the power – A godlike atrocity. Yet, Robotnik had done it.  
Air pressure in the underground was kept to a high point in order to keep the toxic air, which was heavier than clean air, out. The underground was the last refuge now from this transformed Robotnik. Indeed, once, Dr. Ivo Robotnik had a sense of humor – Malicious humor, granted – and went by the moniker of "Eggman," and dubbed his machines similarly. His genius knew no bounds, and he was as innovative as he was intelligent, a dastardly combination, but he never made any real moves. Or at least, everything he did was foiled by one Mobian.

That was when he liked to toy with his helpless subjects.  
The years of playing cat and mouse with his long-standing ambition for the Eggman Empire, his own idea of a utopia, slowly whittled away at the bark of his mind, chipping like woodpeckers, until the sap of his sanity was free to escape, leaving him a soulless husk of a man with only a singular purpose.

Oh yes, he still had sought that Eggman Empire that he dreamed of so fondly, but his image of it was different now. Instead of the flashy lights, towers protruding into the clouds, and frozen manifestations of his face as far as the eye could see; the Eggman Empire became one flat, smog-ridden wasteland – devoid of population and of life.

Now he beheld his perfect utopia.

The only functional building on the planet was an eerie spire – having been known colloquially by the refugee population as the EggSpire. EggSpire held two definitions for the hopeful group. One: it followed the doctor's old naming pattern; and two: it hopefully represented its fate – expire. It stood atop the highest mountain and had antennas situated all over it. The lifeless metallic plating that covered the building reflected the world around it. There were no windows, and no doors. There was no way in or out. The building was indestructible. And inside of the EggSpire was the control center for Robotnik's entire robot army, the man himself. Except, there was no man. There only existed the mechanical wraith that remained of him. A head and the beginning of a torso – nothing else. After the torso, his body simply dissolved into a tangle of wires, tubes, and robotics, the central nervous system for the hivemind that was now known as Robotnik. It was a grotesque sight, the head, gazing blindly into the empty recesses of the unlit room. No noise was to be heard, at all. Nothing organic, save for the brain, remained of him. A crucifixion upon metal.

But he was still alive. The brain communicated with the robotics of the EggSpire as it would its own body, and sent the appropriate instructions to the correct places. Platoons of SWATbots still remained, and legions of life-destroying robots patrolled the putrid soil, looking for another inch of organism to squash. The singular goal was in his mind, and it would not leave.

Destroy all life. It was his programming – his raison d'être. There was no other way.

So in this state of stillness, he found no life. Not after the last band of resistance he mercilessly destroyed now years ago. His SWATbots patrolled, and could patrol for as long as they wanted, but he found no life.

But still – there it was. Destroy all life.

But there was no life.

No longer were they neurons, but circuits. Electric signals doing loop-de-loops along silicon and copper. There was no life, they would say.

But there was. One more remained.

Run Maneuver Omega.

In preparation for this, two steel arms lifted the folds of skin that constituted the last of his body. His head didn't move, but the cheeks were raised ever so slightly, bending his gray moustache upward, and his pale lips into a smile.

And he died.

* * *

_**A/N: Somewhat strange idea I had, I suppose. It made sense at the time. Comments? Please reply!**_


End file.
